Now That It's Dark

You've pulled a blind one over me See, I was born a sun baby Baking in the heat, skin like a creme brûlée You tap tap tapped and cracked, now you see the inside of me See, I swore I would never forget the summers that made me But I so adore the decor of you sat waiting in the corner by the pub door while the sun sets at half passed four Perhaps you're the answer I've been waiting for I don't think I miss summer anymore Meet me at half three It's been a rough night shift but your spirit might lift my icy mood sinking fast at the bottom of my glass And the customers who roared as they swore asking for more are still miserable behind their lavish Chelsea doors but I get to stare at your face as we sit on the Thames shore You talk of some film lore I don't care for Before we're caught in the rain pour and forced to hide in the Church doors Naturally I curse British weather, which you ignore And cut me off to kiss my face in front of St Paul's I don't think I miss summer anymore Never before has it been a delight to walk in London'd blue night Lit under fairy lights and Ben's watchful eyes seeing the things we hide So caught up with us he's forgotten to tell the time So he lets the suits and Canary Wharf commuters sleep until the sun shines And as we orbit zone one, my thin knit excuse of a jersey causes goose bumps to run down me And I have to admit to a smug Brit that I should've listened to him while choosing my outfit Regardless, you commit the sweet but cringe act of offering me your jacket But you look so fit smiling at me on the moonlit bank that I accept it And also cause its fucking freezing But I want to give you something too Although I don't think my beanie in the shape of a Christmas pudding will even fit your head so instead, I offer you this Wear my gaze like an overcoat Let my eyelashes bat off the raindrops caught in the corners of your smile Fall into my blue, my skin is your driftwood to keep you afloat Your cat, my mouse, your hide, my seek Seven days of winter's hottest week Thoughts of my fingers, like magnets, glide above your skin raising it's peachy hairs to my palm Warm breathe somersaulting it's way down your neck The memory trips me into the Thames Onlookers call me the shipwreck of Mile End Use my words as your overcoat When you step in a puddle think of my footnotes I wrote them for your long walks back to me You're private sun everywhere you'll be Nestled deep into your dorm Winter has never been this warm Wear my promise as your overcoat Hold it tightly like a seventh grade love note Let it burn like whiskey down your throat And sit in your belly keeping you warm til the end of February I suppose the cold is more bearable with your sweet laugh as its underscore But don't you think the constant oppression of rain is a little hard to ignore At least in this dark, depressive downpour there's you to call for But dammit, I forgot to account for the biting wind that makes my ears and fingers go sore And the coat, on jacket on jersey, on undershirt- there's only so much of these suffocating layers that I can endure But I promise... I don't think I miss summer anymore God, I I'm starting to see this season through a new lens Do you always speak about me like that to your friends In a world of tens, she's just the odds and ends That's fine, let's make amends You remind me of our first time overlooking the Thames so okay Say something cliche to downplay around the way you spoke to me on my birthday And you're right, we shouldn't focus on this slight You remind me that I'm the one who hates to fight, so why ruin the mood on such a gorgeous winter's night I wonder how soon I can get a flight to visit home at summer's height God, there's only so much cloud I can stand for I searched for your figure during the encore But you were nowhere in the stalls or second floor And in all the congratulating faces, the only one I cared for Was missing as I stood frozen in the wind at stage door Now I'm reminded why I like the summer more You tell me that this was fate Asked me to have some faith But I've never really been a religious kind And you were so good at turning our problems into wine So I'm sorry I can't give you my love But I should thank the guy who showed me winter's art You used to know him And instead of my heart I'll give him a poem I couldn't give you what you want And I don't have much time My trains not long So I'll give you this line Or 109 And maybe one day a song Take my apology as your overcoat In it's pockets find our old love notes Your heart couldn't withstand the sun from the top of the hill So understand that mine couldn't handle the winter chill But perhaps next year it will So hang up our time like an overcoat And when the frosted ground begins to thaw And your lips no longer so bitten and raw When the sun starts to shine And I've lost my ability to rhyme You can hang me back on the wall And wait patiently until next Fall